


spaces inbetween

by Trilies



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aromantic Character, Aromantic!Ignatz Victor, Consensual Somnophilia, Dimiclaude Wild Weekend (Fire Emblem), Dimiclaude Wild Weekend 2020, Dom/sub, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits!Ignatz Victor, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Somnophilia, NSFW Dimiclaude Weekend 2020, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Scent Kink, Thighs, and he does get kisses, and i like how i did him, but it is his house, ignatz is not a huge feature, intercural sex, more specifically - Freeform, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trilies/pseuds/Trilies
Summary: It's meant to be one of the first tournaments and festivals between Fodlan and Almyra, a little cultural exchange to get the two countries further interested in one another. All Claude means to do is check in on how things are going, how people are responding to one another.He doesn't quite mean to stumble in on the sight of his boyfriend "reading" an Almyran book detailing a variety of sexual tips and positions... but they've been apart for far too long.Why not surprise him, and have the two of them slip away for time alone before anyone can stop them?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: Dimiclaude Wild Weekend





	spaces inbetween

Claude knows that people in Almyra have always held a negative people of people from Fodlan. Frankly, he couldn't say which came first: their distaste or the constant battles they've waged at Fodlan's Throat. It's one of those wyvern-or-the-egg questions. However, that's talking about things in rather broad generalizations, both in terms of how Almyrans view things, and just how wrong those views _are_.   
  
For one thing, not all Almyrans hate those from Fodlan. Some of them, merchants for example, find it a land of interesting opportunity where a lot of money could be made if they could be guaranteed safe passage on either sides. Others are warriors who've clashed, steel to steel, against some of the finest warriors only at Fodlan's Throat, including those who know of one Holst Goneril. Well, in a culture which admires strength and battle ability, that's all they need to almost sort of like the guy. And there are even more people with even more reasons to not really hate those from Fodlish.   
  
Claude always makes sure to hire people from all those ranges, working underneath him in some capacity. It's a good way to get a feel for the pulse of his country, for starters, and always lets him knows the various issues people have or which might tempt them. How else is he going to help open things up on his end if he doesn't have an idea of what interests his people, after all? Besides, it's nice to have some vague semblance of support, or at least positive reactions. Gods know that he doesn't have a lot of that in Almyra, sometimes.   
  
And anyway... Not only does he know the Almyran people don't hate their _idea_ of Fodlan, it's not even Fodlan that they think they hate. It's just the _Leicester Alliance_ that they think they hate - the actual country that has opposed them for a long while now. And Leicester, well, while Claude grew to love the place he called home for a good few years, he can understand why Almyra might not view it as the kind of "ideal" country. Along with a feud that has lasted for centuries, the Leicester Alliance has been a country of merchants and annoying complicated politics with a lot of lying to people's faces in the name of unity while being prepared to stab them in the back.   
  
It's not that such things don't exist in Almyra; they do. Humans will be human, no matter the place, and unfortunately it seems like pettiness and lying will just naturally crop up where humans exist. However, Claude would personally say that Almyran culture, the Almyran _ideal_ , definitely involves being upfront with your distaste of someone... for better or worse. The common ideal demands that you bring it up with the person you hate, and do a challenge of skill or power if your words have any bite to them.   
  
Claude has gotten a _lot_ of challenges since he's become king, from showing off his marksmanship to diving with his wyvern. He knows how it works.   
  
Anyway, his _point_ is that Almyra only really knows Leicester Alliance as the face of Fodlan, whatever misinformation they might have or how well founded their aggravations might be. (Claude knows the Gloucester family; he gets it.) But things have changed over in Fodlan. There's no denying that, not when he had a hand in it all. It's just that average Almyran doesn't know that and, more importantly, doesn't know why they should care. Everyone in Fodlan is the same, right?   
  
When Claude thinks of certain nobility or historians or sociologists in Fodlan of hearing that, he can almost imagine their despair, and it makes him grin every time. People are people no matter where in the world you go, and the history of Fodlan has meant that almost every single country within it (not counting Duscur, which maintained its independence for the longest time and has recently regained it) has a tightly entwined history... But oh boy.   
  
Some people _really_ demand that the minute differences be recognized between them, which Claude doesn't think is a bad thing, but can definitely be taken really far. Especially when those "minute differences" are just the same thing, but with a different name tacked on.   
  
He can't exactly sit every single citizen down for a talk about the different cultures and histories of the different areas of Fodlan, however - the scar of Duscur that Dimitri and Dedue are working so hard to heal, the quiet beats of tension that still exist along new borders of what was once Leicester and Adrestia, all of those things. For one thing, it would take way too long for his dream's satisfaction. For another, it wouldn't exactly be the most efficient way of getting to his people. Honestly, he can't think of how that would get to any country of people.   
  
No, the best way to get through to people, the best way to ensnare their attention and show that there's not much difference between them and their neighbors after all is this:   
  
**_Spectacle_**.   
  
Almyrans, like most people Claude has ever met, like a good show, and have a fierce competitive streak to boot. It's honestly child's play to get a series of tournaments set up near Fodlan's Throat on the Fodlan side of things, although just barely past the border comparatively speaking. Claude can't be completely sure of how things go on Dimitri's side, although his fellow king certainly gets the matter done with. Dimitri, however, tends to write his letters carefully, and doesn't like to complain too much. He seems to think it makes him come off as spoiled, which is ridiculous. But that's Dimitri for you - he always seems to believe he deserves whatever struggles he has to fight through.   
  
While he doesn't like that little fact of the world, Claude can't complain about the results: a grand tournament and accompanying festival celebrating the latest treaties between the two countries. Dimitri convides in him, via letters, that he's sent some of their better and most open-minded friends to help prepare things ahead of time. People like Raphael and his sister, whose friendliness is simple and overwhelming, or Sylvain, who Dimitri is apparently looking to help get experience in diplomacy to help change things with Sreng.   
  
Honestly, when Claude reads his latest letter, it seems like he's sent _most_ of their friends ahead of both of them, or at least the people he could get in contact with. The exceptions are the obvious ones - Dedue has his hands full helping lead Duscur's reconstruction, while Lorenz is smoothing over things in former Empire lands to help further ensure the integration of a united Fodlan. For a second, they were both unsure if Felix would manage to make it to the 'welcoming' party or not, because god knows Dimitri's oldest friend was looking forward to the tournaments and going up against proper Almyran warriors. Unfortunately for him, well, the duties of a duke call. He ends up coming later on instead of immediately, which Claude is certain is infuriating for the battle hungry swordsman.   
  
It's one of those little things where the two of them are on the exact same page... because that's who Claude ends up sending ahead of many of his own warriors and definitely far before any Almyran citizens come anywhere close to the border. Quickest of his lot is Nadra, which is unsurprising considering she's a wyvern rider much like himself, and favored because she's blunt but cool headed, a rare logical person in a country of hotheads. No one can complain about her, because her wyvern has a sharp bite, and her fist a sharper one, and so she gets away with otherwise being however she wants to be.   
  
Following close behind is Phoi, head of treasury because no one else had wanted the job. Claude had found them sliding money around as necessary, and sometimes that meant to themself, and their polyamorous family, and the orphanage they helped run on the side. He kept them, obviously, and increased their paycheck. It's a small price to pay to keep someone that clever close at hand. Anyway, he's not found any further evidence of the treasury being meddled with, so he feels certain he's made the right move. And of course, with Phoi comes their small group, and that includes one Lady Vorah, renowned for winning plenty of tournaments over in Almyra herself and a unique little lance fighting style...   
  
Despite their careful work, and the positive messages they both get from their respective people, it's impossible to properly get an idea of how well or terrible things are going until they arrive to see for themselves with their own two eyes. And when they do... When _he_ does... In some ways, it's a lot of what he simply expected as a realist. In other ways, it's little glimpses of a dream he's nursed ever since he was young.   
  
As always, merchants on both sides of the border had been most interested in seeing just what kind of market they had in another country, along with what kind of competition they would have to compete with first and foremost. Going up against cultural bias could come _after_ that. So Claude isn't particularly surprised to see the main street leading up to the tournament grounds absolutely bustling with various stalls or caravans that have made various long trips to get here. What's a _pleasant_ surprise is how some of them have ended up near to one another; he honestly would have thought there to be a pretty strict divide between the Fodlish and Almyran merchants.   
  
Yet while there are certainly little bubbles where certain groups are kept to one another, there's a _lot_ more mingling than he ever would have thought to exist during a moment like this. Food stalls are all gathered together, a mingling of cultures with wildly different needs and resources undeniably fascinated as they look over what the other has to offer. In the short day that Claude takes to look over it, he's amused to find dares have already started up amongst the batches of Almyrans who've arrived just as much as challenges have gone on with the Fodlish side.   
  
Such intense spice is foreign to a cold country where they have to fight to grow crops just for the basics like certain herbs for medicine and wheat for bread, amongst many other things. Claude has to bite back his laughter as he watches a group try some of the hottest curries that are available, running almost immediately to one of the other stalls in the area so that they can get a drink of any kind. Then, on the other side of things, there are various Almyrans who have found a very... _particular_ Faerghus ""delicacy"", surstromming. It's the mystery and challenge of it that gets them, because who wouldn't be hooked by the strange tent closed tight advertising some foreign dish?   
  
Claude is in tears, trying to choke back laughter at the latest batch of Almyrans (a scouting group during work, he thinks), when a familiar hand smacks straight into the middle of his back as though to help him with a Heimlich. "Enjoying people's suffering as usual?" Hilda asks, wearing a wide grin and what Claude can recognize as some of the latest Almyran patterns that are fashionable back in its capital.   
  
Adjusting the scarfs around his head, the ones any regular Almyran traveler would wear and even got a little bit of use in certain towns closer to the Throat like in Goneril, Claude grins right back at her. "I don't enjoy their _suffering_ ," he corrects. "I enjoy their bald faced surprise. Poor them. I'd only wish surstromming on a few very select enemies." Maybe a couple of his brothers - the smell might break them from their tremendous egos and ill-placed stubbornness. "I wonder what kind of impression they get from it? While I'm laughing at them _now_ -"   
  
"There is a lot to laugh at," Hilda concedes.   
  
"-I don't want it to chase them from Faerghus, or any kind of Fodlish cuisine completely." Most Almyrans, he knows, won't care enough to make that kind of distinction. Not yet, anyway. In the future, maybe he'll have convinced them to make the effort. It'd be a shame if surstromming hindered that effort.   
  
Fortunately, he has someone who's clearly been keeping her finger on the pulse of things for obviously a while now, and Hilda pats his back a little more gently. "No worries," she tells him. "Have you ever followed them down the street a lil'? Come on." And, well, what else is he going to do when she gives him such handy bait like that? He comes along.   
  
What he sees, ultimately, shouldn't surprise him. It's Raphael, because of course it's Raph, cheerfully perking up at the sight of a couple of people looking green around the gills. When they went to school with one another, Claude had known Raphael to believe that very few things couldn't be solved with good food that was made all the more delicious by good company. The war hadn't been something that could be solved so simply, of course... Although who knows? Maybe miracles could have happened if Raphael had simply been in the right place at the right time. He's a hard guy to deny.   
  
That's probably what happens to this batch, swept up in the enthusiasm of this wild Fodlish foreigner as he ushers them over to one stall in particular. Even from a distance, Claude can tell that some sort of stew is being served up in simple wooden bowls at the stall Raphael is helping to patron. (By, you know, dragging patrons over.) Closing his eyes, Claude breathes in deep through his nose and smiles. In contrast to how the surstromming has no doubt been carefully contained by very specific domestic magics so that its incredibly _distinct_ smell doesn't leak out and probably kicked away from the festival grounds, he can smell the warmth of the stew all the way down the street, mingled with a dozen other pleasant scents.   
  
Almyra got lucky in a lot of ways, Claude knows that. His homeland may be in the midst of a desert, but has never meant it's all hungry sand hostile to any human habitation. They have a sea along their borders, and a river or two that flows into that sea. There are mountains whose reach up into the sky has let them be closer to rain, and that rain runs down to people. There are aquifers as well, or simply places where the rain reaches a little better when it's swept in from the sea. All of that has allowed it to be home to a variety of plants and animals, including the spices and herbs which feature so prominently in their food.   
  
Fodlan has historically not really had access to a lot of those, save for the occasional town closer to the Throat where things inevitably crossed over despite so many years of tension. Whatever the name all of it went by - the Adrestian Empire, or Faerghus, or the Leicester Alliance, or now simply _Fodlan_ \- they've had to work with a completely different set of ingredients. Faerghus in particular has always had it rough, relying on a lot of trade and, when it came to their own home territory, a lot of stubborn farmers and hunters. That means some of their food has never really been particularly _complex_ , in the way that spices can make a meal...   
  
But Claude swears there aren't a lot of other places that make _comfort food_ quite like Norther Fodlan: heavy and warm foods that flow through the body, settle right in the gut. They're the kind of foods he always wants to eat when winter comes in Fodlan, and he wonders how many of his country will decide to stick around long enough to experience that mingled heaven and hell. For now... Well, for now he'll find himself more than satisfied with watching them eat the stew Raphael has recommended now. Watch as their eyes sink shut and they savor that heavy comforting warmth that will definitely wash away their memories of the surstromming sample they were exposed to. Maybe it'll make them even decide to eat it properly, later, when it isn't quite as... intense.   
  
"And I bet some particularly clever chefs and merchants have been keeping an eye out for whoever goes to try the curries, huh?" he asks, opening his eyes to grin at Hilda. Dairy products tend to be the best cure for a spice-riddled tongue, and Almyran ice cream - aka the only kind of ice cream _he_ knows about _so far_ \- is kept perfectly cool, which only helps add to its properties. That it's delicious in its own right, no matter the flavor (although Claude perhaps is biased) is just another selling point. He wonders if any of the merchants here _really_ brought enough to satisfy the Fodlish population.   
  
Hilda's grin matches his own. "Once the real crowds start arriving, I don't know what places will be bustling the most," she says.   
  
"Ha. This is definitely one more historical event in a whole list of them... Although I am curious about one thing, and I would bet hard coin that you know if anyone does. Just how on earth were all these merchants convinced into setting up shop right next to someone who was a member of their sworn enemy only a couple of years ago? I was expecting an Almyran half and a Fodlish half, with hardly any intermingling besides some of the more curious, clever, or bold merchants venturing outside of their zones."  
  
She tugs him along, and Claude follows, because there's still so much that he wants to see here. This is a huge and momentuous event; everyone who has been able to come here has, from merchants to fighters to the average person alike. A pity for anyone in the other regions of Fodlan... but maybe, as things progress, they'll be able to hold similar tournaments and festivals deeper in. Maybe Brigid will be involved, or perhaps they'll get in contact with Dagda... and if there ever came a day when they could convince Sreng into peace with Fodlan, then Claude knows Dimitri would be over the moon.  
  
Grinning at him, Hilda winks. "Funnily enough, a lot of it was thanks to Lorenz. Now, I can't be sure of _everything_ , but apparently he had Ignatz dig up aaaaall the information he could about all the merchants on our side - personality, their businesses, who they knew, everything. And then he worked with all the merchants in arranging how their stalls would be set up, along with keeping space open for the people on your side. Ignatz said he compared it to hosting tea for a bunch of nobility: you have to keep in mind all the petty grudges and who might get along best in a certain situation."  
  
Claude laughs, absolutely delighted. "Of _course_ he would." One could say a lot of things about Lorenz Hellman Gloucester - mostly back in their school days, and a little less now - but there's no denying that the man has a good idea of how to handle social nonsense. This is especially true now that he's stopped being such an ass about women in recent years. So to get himself involved in even the set up of the marketplace, arrange all the stalls around so that the more curious or openminded could see just who they have to work with... "It's a shame that he couldn't make time to get here early. It should still take a couple of days, right?"  
  
"Yup." Looking over her shoulder, Hilda smiles in that coy and knowing way she sometimes gets. "But the good news is that someone else has managed to arrive a little early himself."  
  
Well then. That sounds like a pleasant and intriguing little surprise. And Claude can't resist things that intrigue him.  
  
Needless to say, the food areas of the grounds are definitely the ones that are getting the most attention, and for good reason. Yet there's a lot more to this gathering than just _food_. All sorts of merchants are trying to convince even these early crowds to at least take a look at their wares, get interested, have them stuck in their mind and perhaps circle around later. Claude admires all of it as he follows after Hilda. This is only but a small taste of the world he wants: a variety of languages and patterns and items all arranged side by side, just like the people selling and browsing them.  
  
Hilda has clearly already been through the various fabric and clothing stores, which means Claude is almost positive that she's definitely made it past the various stalls hawking jewelry from all different price ranges. It's nice to see that even some of the cheaper kinds of jewelry are becoming immensely popular, despite how they're often made out of twine and beads and any other number of things. They make their way past all of that without Hilda even looking to the side.  
  
No, Hilda's destination is somewhere that their old professors would be shocked to see her going: book stalls. Well, not only books, granted. There are plenty of people examining the different varieties of paper that have been brought out in hopes of finding scholars or historians or teachers that have need of such things. He thinks he can see a couple of Almyran scholars - rare, but they do exist, because every society needs someone to handle all the fine details even if the majority don't. They're gathered over by a Fodlish merchant selling a variety of colored inks and pigments that can be used for paint.  
  
Well, that's not particularly surprising. A lot of Almyran groups or clans tend to stay constantly on the move, with more established settlements being a little bit more rare depending on where water is available in whatever form they can get. That means certain kinds of art just haven't really had a chance to thrive in their country. They have a tendency more towards architecture, sculpture, and textiles. Paint exists to a certain degree, but there's more interest in tiles and what sticks best to what kind of stone.  
  
So for this range of inks, the kinds of paints that they use.... Of course they would be fascinated by what Fodlan has to offer in this regard. Claude wasn't able to get a good look before Hilda whisked him away, but he suspects there have to be at least a few Fodlish people doing the same near the Almyran dyes. This is especially true if Hilda is one of those already wearing Almyran patterns; people keep an eye out for the kind of things she wears.  
  
Hilda herself is keeping an eye out for a very particular stall, and tugs Claude to the side when she finds it.... Although not at the stall itself. Lips quirked up in a teasing smile, she points. "Look over there."  
  
Almyra may be different in what art it tends to focus on and value than Fodlan, but that doesn't mean they're _completely_ bereft of books. In fact, they have quite a valuable library, back in the main capital where the king reigns. It's an incredible and valuable place... noteworthy in that its keepers and any fan of its would go to war in a heartbeat to protect everything they've managed to amass over the many decades and even centuries. There's good reason for that, with how carefully they've had to preserve what they have in a climate and culture that don't much care for such things. In a sort of peculiar way, that's earned it a respect all its own.  
  
The large area, shielded from the sun with beautiful Almyran patterns stretched across with poles, seems to be less a stall and more almost its own miniature outdoor library... Just, instead of people being able to borrow books for free, they pay for them like any other stall, and it is only but a small taste of what the Almyran capital has to offer itself. Claude highly doubts that most of the people here are able to read Almyran just yet, although there may be a few scouts and knights who regularly did duty at the Throat who may.... And that isn't discounting servants from noble houses or rich merchants who will be on the lookout for something that can be bragged about.  
  
Honestly, a lot of people browsing the surprising amount of books for sale are probably thinking along those same lines. They just want something _new_ , something here that will _last_ as a fascinating memento of what they can all recognize as something special. For some people, they'll fill that void with a bracelet, sure. Others won't mind the ephemeral nature of life, and pick something that adds to their day-to-day, such as splurging on a spice or figuring out the recipe for some foreign meal. But others still? Others will treasure a book, even one that they can't read.  
  
Of course, for some, it won't be a problem if they can read it or not. Many books, whether in Fodlan or Almyra or elsewhere in the vast world, handily include _pictures_.... And some books are in fact _very_ helpful on the kind of images they deign to provide. Some of those books are in fact quite recognizable.  
  
A tall figure in a hooded cloak is hunched over a book that, even from a distance, Claude can recognize _quite_ well. No doubt a not-insignificant number of Almyrans could probably recognize it in much the same way. It's a rather _infamously_ noticeable book, with all sorts of... interesting ways to spice up one's more intimate life.  
  
Okay, so, it's a book filled with sex positions, plus a little extra in regards to various foods and how they affect the libido. It is _extremely_ well known and popular, and Claude knows it's one of few books in Almyra with a copy in just about every single settlement or traveling clan. Anywhere with sex workers definitely has a copy or five.  
  
What's more, he can not only recognize the _book_ , but the figure trying to seem very subtle in how engrossed he is in it. A wide grin blossoms across Claude's face before he can even _think_ of stopping it. All Hilda does is laugh quietly at him, and lightly pats his back. "You're welcome, Mister King," she hums under her breath, all sing-song. "Tell him that I said 'hi'."  
  
Claude just quietly laughs back, and waves her off. He has someone to go see, after all.  
  
In the hustle and bustle of a busy festival, especially in the thickest parts of the marketplaces which spring up around them, it can actually be very easy to act sneakily. Everyone just assumes that everyone else is also on their way to somewhere else, and, as long as their coin purse is where it belongs, then things are fine. Additionally, all that hustle and bustle helps make it child's play to not make any noticeable sound if you put in the bare minimum of effort.  
  
Claude's bare minimum is pretty high to start with, something he both knows and tells himself is true, so the figure's head doesn't even twitch as Claude approaches on utterly silent feet until he's peering around from the back. So far, it doesn't seem like this particular reader has gotten very far in the book yet... The page is open to a rather basic position, the receiving partner seated on a flat surface while the giver neatly folds their body into an acute angle as they sink into them. It requires a bit of flexibility, but it's not particularly hard, Claude would say.  
  
He waits just a moment, checking to make sure the reader really is deeply engrossed in the book, before he casually says, "Not bad, although not _my_ first choice."  
  
Careful hands suddenly jerk, release instead of slamming the book shut, and Claude quickly reaches around Dimitri - Dimitri, always so worried that he'll damage something or someone without meaning to - so that he can catch it in one open hand. Now that he's looking at him, it's even more obviously to tell that it's Dimitri with one brilliant blue eye drawn wide to stare down at Claude. His hair has clearly been pulled back, some of it clumsily hidden behind a single headband of Dimitri's own but mostly the hood of his cloak. "Kh- Claude?" Dimitri squeaks, the word strangling in his throat.  
  
Claude winks. "The one and only," he purrs, watching in quiet enjoyment as Dimitri's face only burns an even more intense red. With his lover's pale skin, red stands out like a stain every time he gets embarrassed. He kind of loves it. "I see you've found what's no doubt the most interesting book here, huh?" Leaning in closer, he makes sure his voice is low enough for only Dimitri to hear. "Wanting ideas, Mitya?"  
  
Dimitri looks as though he is going to die, right there inbetween the hastily built shelves of this book stall. "I..." He pauses, clears his throat. Without the book in his hands, he pulls them back underneath his cloak where they can no doubt fidget in peace. "It has been a long time since we've seen one another," Dimitri tries again, turning his head away but still watching Claude from the corner of his eye. With only one, he is not a subtle man when he is paying attention to someone. "I wanted to get a good gift for you, to celebrate our return. I wasn't going to get you a book - I have no doubt you have every single one that has ever existed in Almyra stuffed away all over your bed."  
  
" _Ha_." Claude ducks his head, tucking the book against his chest. "Excuse you, sir. Some of them are on the floor too."  
  
While he's still red-faced, Dimitri smiles nonetheless at Claude's teasing. "Of course. How could I have made such a mistake." He shakes his head and adjusts his hood so that it's still sort-of hiding his face. For anyone who doesn't know him, maybe it's even worked decently. "At any rate... I was still curious. I mentioned all of this to the merchant, and, well... She mentioned a book that would be helpful for a pair of- of lovers reuniting." He swallows thickly and avoids making eye contact. "I was dubious, but, well.... Then she showed it to me..."  
  
Thank all the gods that matter and a few that don't for shameless women. Claude loves them, he really does, and a smile stretches wide across his face. "Well, that's certainly _one_ suggestion.... So." He blows a soft breath of air towards Dimitri's jaw. "...Was it a good suggestion, Mitya?"  
  
And so that's around the time Dimitri hauls him into his arms, and pays for the book.  
  
For the kings of two different countries, nothing but the absolute best has been arranged for them on Fodlish soil. That's the thing about Fodlan. Oh, sure, Almyra always treats its guests well, of course. Claude would be offended if anyone said that their residences and the food they give when treating guests is anything but the best. It's simply that there's a certain _lavishness_ , an excessiveness, to the way Fodlish hospitality works, and that only ramps up the higher up the totem pole one goes. Claude's personal theory is that it has something to do with how damn cold Fodlan - especially the northern parts - can become but that's only a theory in the end.  
  
It makes Dimitri feel more than a little awkward, they both know that. When he was a child, he knew exactly how hard it could be for one to survive without all the benefits of royalty, and that view only cemented during the five years he spent all on his own during the war. So while they both have their own respective places to stay in the best inns in town (a couple of Leicester nobles must be despairing at being robbed of the chance to boast hosting them), Dimitri doesn't go to either of those places.  
  
Instead, Claude in tow, he takes them to Ignatz's place.  
  
As Lorenz's personal knight, Ignatz has managed to make himself quite independent from his family. This has come with a lot of perks, honestly. Lorenz has never necessarily been a _bad_ guy, just a dumb asshole at his worst, and he's changed a lot from how he was when Claude first met him. The wonders of growing up, and learning from your mistakes. After all, even at his worst, he was always trying to help people... He just didn't realize what kinds of helping were actually _helping_. Nowadays, he's keeping his ear close to Leonie as the two of them working alongside Dimitri for the betterment of Fodlan.  
  
But way back when, he'd made a promise to Ignatz to help get him into a life of freedom, of pursuing his dreams of art instead of being held back as a figure of war and battle. Now that they're in a time of peace, now that everyone wants to put those dark and miserable days behind them? Ignatz is even more valid in what he wants to do, although some would argue otherwise. He's becoming an incredible painter, and he was already absolutely stunning when they were all attending school together as it is.  
  
Almost more than his painting skills, however, he's become renown in town for his kindness as much as anything else. With the salary that Lorenz gladly pays him, Ignatz has apparently managed to get quite the large house for himself in this little town, before anyone thought that it would become the very first place for an Almyran-Fodlish meeting among the public. Claude has been to it before, been made comfortable in the couple of spare bedrooms that Ignatz and Raphael take care of together along with Raph's sister, and he's admired the expansive garden that they tend to. There are the typical roses, of course; apparently Ignatz like to set some out when they're in bloom and Lorenz comes to visit.  
  
But more importantly, they help him gather some paints to homemake so that he doesn't have to spend so much buying them from merchants, although some colors still require a bit of trading. And the reason Ignatz really needs to take care of his paint resources is because he has an art studio open for the masses.  
  
The arts shouldn't just be something for the nobility to enjoy. Ignatz really and sincerely believes that, based off of how much the act of creating has done for him, and how he almost wasn't able to pursue that dream. If he can help with that even a little bit... So, whenever he isn't doing work for Lorenz that takes him out of the city, Ignatz keeps his studio open to anyone who wants to learn how to paint, or simply paint for paintings sake. It's really popular for that reason alone, and the food that the Kirstens make only sweetens the deal.  
  
Most of the artwork in the studio has been taken out today, and there aren't a lot of people there either. Everyone is over at the festival or the marketplace, either to possibly make some money or just enjoy what's offered to them in turn. Lucky for him and Dimitri, honesly... They don't need to be seen as they slip into the thriving garden of Ignatz and the Kirsten's home, with Dimitri procuring a key from his belt. Of course they gave him a spare. Claude grins, allowing himself to be tugged inside and resisting just long enough to lock the door behind them.  
  
Somewhere, in a really nice inn, there's no doubt a luxurious suite for the King of Fodlan with everything a person could ever want. Dimitri doesn't need much of that, however. Everything he _needs_ is in the cozy guest bedroom on the second floor of this house: a newly bought lance tucked away in the corner, a pack with a change of clothes for when he has to return to his public life as the king, and basic furniture.  
  
And, now, Claude.  
  
Claude cackles, filled with bright eagerness as he's tossed onto the bed so hard that he bounces a bit. Warm afternoon sunlight filters in from a high window, the rays of which illuminate Dimitri beautifully as he begins to shed his cloak, his belt, the rest of his clothing. It makes a beautiful picture, it really does - the way Dimitri's hair shines, how his muscles tense and relax underneath countless scars in the process of his undressing, the healthy flush to his skin. He's nothing at all like he was during the war. He looks healthy. When he glances up at Claude, blue eye so full of love and adoration it could kill a man... he looks happy.  
  
Honestly, Claude thinks he could lay here forever drinking in the view, but they're here for a very specific purpose. After enjoying what he can, he begins to tug at his own clothing. There's not too much, most of it just around his head or face to help obscure who he really is, so it doesn't take long before he's tosses it all to the side and Dimitri is crawling onto the bed with him. They sink into a kiss, sink into each other, and Claude digs his fingers into Dimitri's back.  
  
His lips begin to slide from Claude's, despite his protest, and that's quickly assuaged as Dimitri works along his throat, his shoulder. "I was actually going over that book from the beginning for a second time when you stumbled upon me," he admits against Claude's collar bone. One of his large hands begins to ghost along his side, to his hip, his pelvis. "It had already given me enough ideas by then.... but I wanted to make certain for myself that I was thinking clearly."  
  
Oh, oh, oh. Claude's eyelashes flutter, and he arches his back, tries to roll his hips further into that touch. Dimitri doesn't let him have it that easily, pulling his hand away just enough to be a torment. "And what ideas were you thinking of?" he says breathily, his body already heated up underneath Dimitri's touch. He's not hard yet... but he's getting there more than quickly enough.  
  
Tormenting him even further, Dimitri pulls away until he's on his knees, looking down at Claude with a sweep of his tongue against his lips. "It's - they are ideas that will require a little bit of... ordering about," he murmurs, still not having a proper name for the game they like to play sometimes. It's a game of domination, and submission, and sometimes a little bit of sadism and masochism too. "And after having you be so teasing and tempting, Claude...."  
  
"You really want to put me in my place, huh?" Claude asks, and grins wider when Dimitri looks terribly embarrassed at even that _phrasing_. They both know it's not entirely the truth, not the exact appeal of why Dimitri loves to see Claude bound, or marked, or in tears of pure bliss as he breaks down in Dimitri's arms... .  
  
But it's just so easy to tease him, sometimes.  
  
Besides, it gets him delightful little "punishments" like Dimitri leaning down to nip at the inside of Claude's thigh. "I want to see how well you truly know the contents of that book," he murmurs against his skin. "So let's test you, shall we?"  
  
Neither of them ever really _explicitly_ wrote in their letters the kind of things they'd like to do to one another when they reunited. They're both taking a risk as it is just being open about their relationship in those, when there's always _always_ a chance that they can be lost, or intercepted, or any other number of things. The various intimacies have to be left out, and only alluded to at times when they really can't hold back.  
  
And yet they know each other, in the end. Dimitri clearly was having expectations of his own even _before_ he was handed a book full of sexual advice and interesting positions to try. It would explain why he has just the right kind of rope tucked away in his pack, the perfect texture to not be terrible against Claude's skin. So much care is taken as Dimitri winds it around Claude's arms, binds them behind his back. One day, maybe they'll get to try even more elaborate rope tricks.... but for now, Dimitri is most comfortable with something like this, and, well... it does do the job.  
  
"Comfortable?" Dimitri asks, hot breath right in his ear, and Claude finds his brain briefly sidetracked as a full body shudders shakes him to the core. It takes him a second to remember what he _should_ be doing. Refocusing, he strains his arms against the rope keeping them bent and folded behind his back. Tests them, gets a feel for them. If he really, honestly tried, he could probably slip out of them... but it would take work, and focus.  
  
As they are now, they can keep him perfectly in check for all his almost _inevitable_ thrashing while still guaranteed to not harm him.  
  
"Perfect," he tells Dimitri, and sighs as he feels those rough fingertips so gently trail down the curve of his spine. He's seen Dimitri shatter swords with his bare hands, move boulders, haul armor knights up with nothing but a little determination and thought. And yet he's so gently with him... "So what next, Your Kingliness?"  
  
"You could try being quiet," Dimitri suggests, but he's grinning as he moves around Claude. And, anyway -   
  
"That's not an order." Claude's eyes positively glitter, and his own smile widens even more when Dimitri snorts at him. He tugs him gently across the bed, fingers encompassing the entirety of Claude's ankle so _easily_. It's a little uncomfortable to lay like this, arms trapped between him and the mattress, but it's such a secondary thing compared to the beat of arousal that leaps through him as Dimitri looms over him. His hands sink down into the mattress, bracketing Claude's head.   
  
In his chest, Claude's heart beats excitedly as he feels the hot brush of Dimitri's cock against one thigh. His lover read through that whole book... What caught his attention? What stuck in his mind? He has no idea... and the mystery of that is enticing, almost as enticing as the way Dimitri's lips brush against his jaw. "My order is this," Dimitri murmurs, crawling down the entirety of his body using his mouth alone. "It is that you... are not allowed to come." Claude's breath catches, and he can't tell if it's at that order or the way Dimitri presses a kiss along the curve of his hip down between his legs.   
  
"Mean," Claude says, biting down on his lip when Dimitri's breath flows over his cock, and then keeps going.   
  
A grin is pressed against his thigh, so close as to be maddening, and Dimitri's eye sparkles when he looks up at him. "Exactly as you like it."   
  
Claude knows for a fact that the ropework is something he likely got a rough idea of in the book, because Claude has read that particular little passage. Dimitri in the past has simply stuck to tying Claude's wrists; this method of binding his entire forearms is a change of pace. However, Dimitri doesn't leap into any of the positions that the book detailed, as far as Claude can tell. He simply lavishes Claude's body with soft kisses, alternating with hard bites in certain places - mostly his legs, the wise choice. Claude has adjusted his wardrobe for this trip just in case, but still probably best to not leave any marks in... obvious places.   
  
It's a slow build up, languid, not at all what one would have thought of if they'd seen the way Dimitri had pulled Claude along, or the force of which he'd been tossed onto the bed. But that's just like Dimitri, honestly. If he's not trying to shove Claude's mouth down over his cock in the most immediate vaguely private location that he can find, then it's because he wants to take his time pulling him apart.   
  
And the thing is? He's so _good_ at it. He's a menace as he kisses and bites along all the right spots, having long learned Claude's body as well as though it were his own. All the places where a kiss makes him squirm and sigh, or a bite will bruise so splendidly in a spot where Claude can't ignore it. He's already achingly hard, longing for a rough stroke or a tender open-mouthed kiss all along his length. Dimitri going so slow, tugging at his string...   
  
" _Mitya_ ," he gasps when Dimitri takes him by his thighs and begins to just spread him wiiiide open, nothing hidden away. Instinctively, even though he has nothing anywhere near to being inside of him, Claude feels his lower half clench down, twitch. The embarrassment follows shortly after. He always feels so - _exposed_ when Dimitri does this. When he pries him open, stretches him out, it's as though he's just...   
  
Dimitri's hands adjust along his thighs, slide further away from his knees and towards his rear, lifting him straight off of the sheets. His thumbs press in, rub, pull, and he blows a sharp breath that sends Claude keening with a buck of his hips. "Stay still," Dimitri admonishes gently, words gusting just barely inside of Claude as he spreads him open further. It's _embarrassing_ when he's exposed like this, somehow even more when he's completely empty and nothing to show for it. "I want to keep you completely in my hands..."   
  
That one is an order, and Claude, well... Sometimes he teases and plays the brat in these games of theirs, of course. Yet there are other times when he's almost _helpless_ to the things Dimitri demands of him. And this... He's definitely helpless to this, shuddering as Dimitri's fingers gently massage just outside his entrance's rim. When there's a soft wet kiss, morphing into a suck around around one of his balls, it catches Claude by surprise, sends electricity through him as he jolts against Dimitri's grip. "Not moving," he whines, when he feels Dimitri's mouth pause, tongue a heavy wet weight against the underside of him. "I'm- I'm staying right here, Mitya."   
  
Another hard suck has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and then Dimitri releases him with a wet pop. Dimitri sometimes seems to innocent, so easily flustered, that hearing such a lewd sound coming from him is.... The bed shifts beneath Claude as Dimtiri slides inbetween his legs, still keeping him held open. It's a good thing he's so flexible; that might be why Dimitri is doing this in the first place. Absolutely nothing is in his way when he slides his hips along Claude's and-   
  
"Can you feel it?" Dimitri murmurs, so soft and gentle, as if he isn't grinding his cock along the inside of Claude's thighs, his hips, right next to where his own arousal lays against his stomach. Claude's breath catches, just like his heartbeat. Dimitri keeps going, not seeming to have noticed at all. He's more preoccupied with guiding his erect cock along Claude's hips, until they're flush against one another. "This is how far I could reach inside of you, love..."   
  
Dimitri... is _not_ a small man. His erection is similarly not small, all soft velvety sensation as it slides up with its head teasing at the space near Claude's belly button. Somehow, in the same way that Dimitri's spreading him open does, it gets Claude so damn _flustered_ , his legs quivering in Dimitri's grip. "I can feel it," he gasps, wishing there was a way for him to move his body, grind his arousal against Dimitri's.   
  
But Dimitri had said _not to move_ \- and so Claude stays still, biting his lip, head tilted back. It's an invitation, one his lover takes gladly to begin peppering light kisses all along the arch of his throat. It's been so long since they've seen each other, Claude wishes Dimitri would go fast, would fuck him straight into the mattress until he can't think anymore. At the same time, he knows that's exactly why Dimitri is going _slow_. Later on, they'll have plenty of need for faster meetings, sneaking out behind their guards' backs or out of sight of the various nobles and clansheads from two countries.   
  
Dimitri's languid kisses, the lazy draw of his finger up along Claude's cock, the temptation he can't beg for - that's all something they can only do right now, when they've arrived early, and no one had any reason to care about the two men who had stolen away from the festival's market with one another.   
  
After what feels like hours of teasing him, Dimitri suddenly pushes himself up. Dazed, Claude tilts his head so that he can look down at their positions when he feels Dimitri's thighs brush against his. The blond has settled neatly inbetween his thighs, knees bracketing his ass, and his heart beats harder. Is this it? No, it can't be - Dimitri hasn't even bothered to get out the oil. He'd never be so horny as to forget that. Dimitri _fusses_ too much to forget.   
  
While Claude's brain is churning in trying to figure things out, Dimitri acts. He reaches around, underneath to gently brace Claude's back as he hauls him up onto his lap. Instinctively, Claude tightens his thighs, and his arms strain against the rope. He doesn't mean it, not really - it just can't be helped. Soothingly, Dimitri starts to press kisses along the side of his face. "It's alright, starlight," he murmurs, his hand gently petting Claude's spine. "I have you."   
  
Claude smiles a little, tilting his head to the side. Yeah. "I know," he sighs, enjoying Dimitri's soft ministrations. "You always do... sappy nicknames and all."   
  
The hand at his back adjusts, goes to grip where the rope keeps Claude still mostly helpless. "And yet you have never made an honest complaint of them," Dimitri says, his other hand skimming along Claude's side, his hip, curving around his rear. A lazy smile appears on his lips when Claude gasps. "Or am I wrong?"   
  
"Perhaps you're not," Claude concedes, partially because that's the truth, and partially because he can feel Dimitri's hand press in all the more firmly to his ass.   
  
It's the right choice. "Good boy," Dimitri says, soft praise somehow going right down Claude's spine. He lifts Claude up - not very high, just enough for proper friction... Just high enough, close enough, to drag their cocks together. Claude whines, tightens his ass in wanton need just imagining what he feels deep inside of him: the throbbing heat, a thick vein the grinds up against his own cock, the precome that his own tip slips against until it's smeared down his length. He wants it in him _so much_. Wants that feeling of being filled, of electricity jolting through his legs and up his spine.  
  
That isn't the game for today, unfortunately, it seems. Dimitri adjusts his hands appropriately, seeking to put them just right on Claude's body. Simple grinding isn't just a tease for what's to come; it's the main course. Dimitri handles him like he weighs _nothing_ , like he's a doll, and that's almost more arousing than any actual skin contact, no matter how sensitive that skin may be or where it is. Dimitri doesn't even have to grunt, doesn't have to focus. All he does is _watch_ as he grinds up against Claude's body, sending him into quiet fits of gasps and moans.  
  
"Mitya," he keens, and gives in, bucks his hips to try and align their erect lengths together properly, because this isn't _enough_ , this isn't tugging him towards release. It's merely leaving him in aching view of it, keeping him in the same place instead of sprinting full speed. "Mitya, please-"  
  
Dimitri lifts him up again, but higher than he ever has before, lifts him until he can lower Claude down slowly.... right until he's settled so neatly right on top of Dimitri's cock, the thick arousal spreading open his cheeks until Claude's entrance is grinding right down against thick hot flesh. Claude can almost _feel_ his pupils dilating, blown out from arousal as the slow grind catches at his sack, the underside of his length.   
  
There is no rush. No frantic energy. Dimitri just lazily rolls his hips underneath Claude, dragging him towards an unending pull of pleasure. "I want to see you hit your release like this," Dimitri says, his voice still gentle and quiet, marred only by the rough heaviness of his breath. "I want to see you come all across my stomach before I've even put an inch inside of your body."   
  
"Oh fuck," Claude rasps, gaze unseeing, mind only able to feel the way that Dimitri presses ever so closer against his body. His hands stay right where they are, guiding Claude in this slow and steady rut between them. His lips find their place against his throat.  
  
"Show me how much you want it, my starlit love."   
  
In truth, he'd sort of forgotten the section in that book that had detailed plain non-penetrative sex. Oh, the _spicier_ things, sure. Before he'd left for Fodlan so many years ago to take on the name of "Claude von Riegan", he'd devoured the bondage section in particular with no small amount of eagerness. What can he say? He'd been young, and full of hormones, and not very many people he could trust to put all that in their hands.   
  
But Dimitri? Dimitri he can trust. He can let go of the tension which so often plagues him as he proves himself in a way few others in his country have to do so, goes against his own family to see his dreams come true. He can stop thinking, stop worrying, and just focus on _this_ : the numerous callouses and scars that press along his skin where Dimitri holds onto him, the sparks of pleasure which burst through his stomach into his brain, and the pure and simple _scent_ of Dimitri as Claude buries his face into the crook of his neck, gasping and moaning.   
  
Every slide of Dimitri's arousal against him sends desire bubbling up, and any brush of his own cock or even the entrance of his ass sends those feelings popping up all throughout him. Claude can't fight against this, any of this - and he doesn't want to. His face slides against Dimitri's skin as he's moved, smearing against sweat and saliva from his own mouth. He almost doesn't notice - not with pleasure tearing at his ability to think, or the comforting heavy scent that is pure Dimitri. Dimitri, all simply human sweat, all oil from where he must have cleaned his weapons before taking time for himself, that heavy filling smell of hay and oats and whatever else were in the stables when he put his horse away for the day after a morning's ride.   
  
Claude isn't particularly _thinking_ when he starts to press sloppy open mouthed kisses against Dimitri's shoulder. All he knows is that he needs to do it, needs to release this yearning in him for everything his lover has to offer.   
  
There's just one problem: this situation isn't one where he's being _offered_ anything, not _exactly_. Dimitri stops, hands adjusting against so that the one at the rope can get a slightly firmer grip. The other one, to Claude's dismay, leaves his ass... and, in what he can't deny isn't a _worse_ turn of events, goes up to fist itself tightly in his hair. That's not the bad part.   
  
The bad part is when Dimitri gently but unrelentingly pulls his face away by the hair, leaving Claude's mouth just as empty as his lower half is. "I said be still," he hums, the vibration of it tickling at Claude's ears. Just a quiet, teasing noise. He wishes it were elsewhere. "You weren't supposed to move, Claude."   
  
_Oh_. Now that's just _unfair_. "That should hardly count," he whines, wishing he could give a proper pitiful look to Dimitri. Unfortunately, with how his lover is pulling at his head, that's not really something in his power to do. "If that's how it is, then me talking counts as movement."   
  
"Well, you are the smartest person that I know, Claude," Dimitri says, and he doesn't have to be looking at him to hear the grin in his voice. "If that's what you think, then I will take that into account."   
  
"Oh no," Claude says, in a delighted kind of trepidation.   
  
"No more talking either, my deer. I expect absolute silence from now on."   
  
_Absolute_ silence is more than a little difficult to maintain in this kind of situation. How is he supposed to stay silent when Dimitri teasing pinches at his ass? When he feels that enormous cock grind up against his own, his balls, his ass? It takes a lot of work to do, as it turns out... and work that he _has_ to do. .Because every time he breaks the hot silence of the room, Dimitri just _stops_. His fingers leave Claude's body, and his cock goes still where it warms the inside of his thighs. All of this is torture, but the worst kind where nothing is worse than the torture itself.   
  
So Claude forces himself to be quiet. He clenches his jaw, seals his lips tight, so that no sound might escape. He chokes back the cries that wish to leap out, the begging that he now knows won't get to Dimitri, not this time around. All he does, all he can do, is fall apart to pleasure while his lungs shake in his chest. It's hard to say when Dimitri even changes there positions, pulls Claude's back to his chest, only that he does it. Only that his cock grinds up inbetween Claude's thick thighs, the insides smeared with precome - theirs together, as Claude leaks uncontrollably with no other way to find release, to find more pleasure.   
  
Not until Dimitri jerks his hips up with an almost violent need, ruts up against the very bottom of himself, and scatters his spend all along Claude's legs, his stomach. His cock jerks and twitches, from motion and arousal alike, because gods, _gods_ , it's so warm, hot enough to make his muscles twitch in surprise. Dimitri holds him close and tight, labored breathing rushing along Claude's neck.   
  
And what else can he do with all his longing? Nothing. Just stay on Dimitri's lap, trembling from the sensation cooling on his skin... before Dimitri slides his hand against his thigh, gathers the comes along his palm, and wraps his fingers around Claude's own aching length.   
  
_Finally_. "Go on, my beautiful guiding star," Dimitri says softly against his ear, hot air right at the shell of it. Claude gasps, toes curling. "Let me know how you feel. Go ahead."   
  
It's only a handjob, but Claude has been wanting for a _long_ time. He digs his heels into the sheets of the bed, arches his hips, his spine, and orgasm takes away every single thing from his mind. No emotions, no thought, just pure unadulterated _relief_ that leaves nothing in its wake. He has no idea he's squeezed his eyes shut until he has to open them again when he slumps forward with a fluttering series of gasps.   
  
Amazing, really, what a little bit of rope and a very patient lover can do.   
  
Gently, Dimitri lowers him forward until he's laying stomach-down on the bed again. Claude doesn't stop him, couldn't care to. He just lays there in his own release along with Dimitri's, recovering piece by piece. Dimitri lets him, makes sure his own dick doesn't get caught inbetween Claude's thighs, and a dozen other little things that he's not really thinking about. Frankly, Claude isn't thinking about a lot of things right now. It's been.... a long day. He's just finished the long trek from Almyra to here, and ventured through the marketplace, and...   
  
He drifts off to sleep without thinking much of it.   
  
Consciousness comes maybe a couple of hours later, not because he recuperates enough to wake, and not because the change from sunlight to long shadows sets off something in his unconscious brain. It's because of the weight pressed against his back, hot breath in his ear and a hard arousal inbetween his thighs again as Dimitri recklessly ruts against him. He must have been at it for a while already; Claude can recognize the strain to his voice when he's reached his limit. Hell, his cock is so hard that it's almost painful even where Claude can feel it.   
  
And yet despite the frantic energy sliding hard and fast inbetween Claude's legs... Dimitri still seems to be holding himself back. He can recognize the pressure of his fists pressing deep into the mattress, not wanting to alert Claude by gripping his waist or breaking the headboard by accident. Every sound that manages to slip past his teeth seems as though it had to fight its way out of tight lips.   
  
Claude smiles, just a little, into the sheets. "Morning, Mitya," he mumbles, reaching up and behind himself so that he can slide his fingers through Dimitri's hair, pry it away from where it sticks to his face, his neck.   
  
A startled jerk, and then Dimitri goes shamefully still. "I... I apologize, Claude," he murmurs, turning his face to Claude's palm. "I didn't wish to wake you, and yet..."   
  
"It's fine." Yawning, Claude takes better stock of himself. The soiled sheets from before have been crumpled up beneath his stomach, no doubt to take in whatever comes spruting onto them in what's likely a few minutes - if that. "I gave you permission a _long_ time ago that you could relieve yourself using my body if I was sleeping, as long as it was nothing complex." He smiles slyly over his shoulder. "After all, by that point, I'd become _more_ than familiar with how much your libido is."  
  
Dimitri's face is already a pretty pink just from a combination of exertion and being caught in the act. Having Claude explicitly call out his immense sex drive is just apparently a little more of an embarrassment sprinkled on top. Still, the facts are the facts. Claude can still remember the time he woke up in the middle of the night to find Dimitri with one fist in his mouth and the other curled around his erect cock as he'd tried to get himself off, despite having mounted Claude ravenously only a couple of hours prior.   
  
Some people are just like that... and it's not as though Claude is _displeased_ with this turn their relationship has taken. Still, Dimitri always seems awkward about this little fact about himself, just like he's awkward now in the way he hides his face against Claude's palm. "Still.... I was hoping that you could catch up on your rest..."   
  
"I napped," he says lazily, before he taps Dimitri's ear. "So let me help you - which means that you're going to have to get off of me, instead of _to_ me."   
  
" _Claude!_ "   
  
But Dimitri obeys him, because Dimitri always does even when he's playing his more dominant role. He removes his cock from Claude's thighs, and tosses the soiled sheets to the side in a crumpled heap at his instruction. Soon enough, Claude is sprawled out on his back again, and he stretches out his fingers along the blankets beneath him. He doesn't feel any aches, from his shoulders down to his fingertips. "Massage them while I was out?" he asks Dimitri, and grins widely at the eager nod that he's given. "Such a caring lover. The most caring one I've ever had."   
  
That isn't a particularly high bar to clear. Claude only ever had lovers of any sort back in Almyra, and most of them didn't end particularly _well_. The kindest thing Claude can say about them, in terms of romance, is that at least he learned a lot and put the experience under his belt for someone more deserving of it all. Someone like the soft-hearted warrior king who looks up at him underneath pale eyelashes with a beautifully blue eye. "I just wanted to make sure you'd awake feeling alright," he says, and smiles.   
  
"I do," Claude reassures him, soaking in that smile. At one point, he hardly ever saw it on Dimitri's face. He's more than happy to be greedy in how much he sees it now. "So listen to me when I tell you to get up here, with your ass to my face, alright?"   
  
Dimitri blinks. "Oh," he says, a little bit stunned, before he starts to crawl up along the bed. "Are you...?"   
  
There are a couple of different ways this order could go, so Claude decides to be helpful and clarify. "I think my mouth can probably help get you off a little quicker than my legs could," he says, and winks playfully. "Although I'm flattered that you seem to love them so much. So make yourself comfortable up here however you like, alright, Mitya?"   
  
Well, he may say that, but Claude is still surprised when Dimtiri actually settles with his back to him and, more importantly, his ass to Claude's face. "Will this do?" he asks over his shoulder, spreading his legs wide as he shifts a little closer until he's right over Claude's face.   
  
"Not the first position I imagined," Claude admits, winding one arm around Dimitri's thigh while he gets the other into a good enough position to grab at Dimitri's hips. "But it should do." All Claude needs is to adjust Dimitri a little bit, guide his lover forward until he's on his hands with the palms sinking into the mattress again right outside of Claude's hips. With Dimitri's hips adjusted a bit, his cock hangs heavily right in front of his face. Precome is still slick and wet along the whole length of it, leaving a light smear where it brushes against Claude's chin.   
  
He was right; Dimitri has absolutely been at this for a good long while now. While he's definitely not been asleep long enough to get it up again, Claude can't help licking his lips regardless. What can he say? He can't help but like how hot and hard Dimitri always gets for him, so reliably at that.   
  
This isn't a position that they've really ever tried with each other before - and Claude honestly hasn't tried it with anyone else before. Dimitri is his first partner who's ever been interested in sex that's equally a give-and-take; he doesn't care to be the only one who's pampered. He loves Claude, and feels he needs to remind him of this basic fact every single time they get together in any capacity. Even professionally, he always tries to use the warmest language he can get in a professional setting, with the two of them meeting as kings.   
  
But Claude is more than happy to _experiment_ ; part of the fun of sex is being adventurous after all. So he adjusts Dimitri's hips appropriately until the head of his cock finally stops sliding along his face, and can be sucked right into his mouth. Somewhere above him, Dimitri gives a small little gasp of a noise. With something so nice and _thick_ right inside his mouth, barely intruding upon his tongue, Claude has a hard time smiling... but that doesn't mean his lips don't curve, pleased, around Dimitri regardless.   
  
Teasing is hard to do when one has their mouth stuffed full of dick. That doesn't mean it's _impossible_. Claude flicks his tongue out to greet the girthy weight in his mouth, pleasure flicking through him when he feels that hard twitch in response. A part of him wants to be mean, he won't lie - to just toy and edge Dimitri along until his lover is threatening to outright fuck his throat in order to find release. It's a terribly tempting mental image. Claude has to talk himself out of it.  
  
But his poor, handsome Mitya - gasping softly with every little thing that Claude does, his thighs trembling underneath his touch. He's trying so hard not to just fuck his mouth like some wild thing... Which is probably for the better, Claude has to reluctantly admit, because he needs to prepare himself a little bit when Dimitri gets _that_ rough with his throat. Besides, his voice gets distinctly rougher when he's been facefucked. He doesn't mind, even likes the affect that it has on Dimitri.... but that might be a problem when talking to various nobles, especially of the Fodlish variety.  
  
It's already a risk he's decided to take even as he greedily swallows up Dimitri's length, feels it start to press against his throat. For a guy like Dimitri... There's really no half-assing it when it comes to taking him all the way down to the hilt. Claude loves the challenge, the soft sensation spread all along his tongue, the weight in his mouth. It curves slightly, following the way his throat goes, and Claude has to pause for a moment as he adjusts. This isn't the _best_ position to take in Dimitri... but it'll do for now.  
  
Besides, he can't say it isn't worth it when Dimitri makes a shuddering little noise that reverberates throughout his whole body, nails scrapping at the bed sheets.  
  
Still full with satisfaction, Claude continues to suck at him, rolls his tongue along all the right places that he knows drives his lover wild. Above him, Dimitri crumples forward, arms sliding until his elbows are digging into the bed just as much as his hands were a moment before. Claude pauses, just to make sure that it's not anything serious, before he gets right back to work with a long hum that draws out a keen from Dimitri's throat. Honestly, this position works even better for him, since it's raised Dimitri's ass up a little more...  
  
Yet that's all he's thought of when it comes to this change in position. It doesn't occur to him that this has changed a whole lot for Dimitri... not until he feels careful fingers at his own limp penis, and Dimitri's mouth all along the tip.  
  
Claude tries to gasp, his body going rigid beneath Dimitri, but he can't do much like this, can't even say anything - could he say anything even _without_ Dimitri filling up his mouth? It wasn't that long ago that he'd come; the sensitive pleasure jerking through his stomach borders almost on _pain_ , borders on making his mind completely fall apart.  
  
He doesn't realize that his nails have dug into Dimitri's legs until the cock begins to slide out of his throat, his mouth, and Claude takes in a deep ragged gasp the second he has the means to do so. Dimitri patiently waits for him, mouth off of his poor limp dick, until his breathing has evened out. "Was it too much?" he asks apologetically; Claude can barely see his face looking back at him, with their positions as they are. "I apologize, Claude..."  
  
"A little," Claude manages, letting his head roll back against the pillow. Besides giving his poor neck a break, it also helps give him a little space from the dick still hanging right there in front of his face. "I... Gods, Dimitri. Whoo!" He actually laughs. "I haven't had time to recuperate, and you're already trying to suck me dry!"  
  
Dimitri has the unique talent of radiating shame so easily, even when his face can't be seen. "Your - dick was a little sticky," he says, the word stumbling on his tongue a little bit. It's almost incredible that Dimitri can do so many stunningly lewd things, fuck Claude straight into another new year, and yet he hesitates when it comes to certain words, still. It's a matter of how he was raised, Claude knows that, and he _is_ getting better... but the contrast never stops being fascinating.  
  
"So you thought you'd clean it while I was otherwise preoccupied?" Claude asks in amusement.  
  
"I... thought you might like it."  
  
Claude chuckles. "You're very sweet, Mitya, and definitely more than a little _frisky_... but please remember that I _did_ have your dick right between my teeth when you surprised me."  
  
A moment of silence rolls through as Dimitri absorbs the meaning behind Claude's words. "Oh," he says at long last, quietly. "I... did not consider that."  
  
Trying not to laugh _too_ hard, Claude relaxes his fingers from Dimitri's legs and gives his thighs a nice firm pat. "It's alright, Mitya. No harm done, right? Just something to remember for next time. Now, if you'll excuse me..." And he adjusts his head, his hands, all to take in Dimitri's length once more into his mouth and down his throat.  
  
You'd think that, for a guy who was just reminded that his dick narrowly avoided being bit, Dimitri would have become a lot less hard in a very quick amount of time, but no. He's still plenty hot and thick when Claude takes him in again, still so close to orgasm that it would be mean to hold him back any longer. Claude hums again, flicks his tongue along his length, and gets right back to work.  
  
It's all too soon that Dimitri finally spills into his throat, stains it white from tongue to his lungs, and Claude swallows it all greedily. This isn't the first time he's gratefully taken everything Dimitri can possibly give him - won't be the last, either. Finally, when nothing more splatters onto his tongue and Dimitri is making soft strained noises different to his rough gasps from before, Claude releases him. Immediately, Dimitri starts to sink downwards, and only barely remembers to roll to Claude's side instead of right on top of him.  
  
Which is definitely appreciated, honestly. It's one thing when they're cuddling, and Dimitri has decided that he wants to be on top, or be the little spoon. His lover collapsing in an exhausted heap, his dick still on Claude's face, is another matter entirely.  
  
Grinning, Claude reaches over and lightly pats Dimitri's hip. "Finally feeling sated now?" he asks.  
  
"Mmmm..." Dimitri slowly rolls onto his back, legs forced to crook so that his feet don't go over the headboard. Maybe his current position isn't the most comfortable at the moment, but it's sure better than that alternative. "I think this should be enough for now."  
  
For _now_. Claude chuckles. He really does have one voracious lover... It makes him wonder just how on earth Dimitri was able to deal with anything when he was likely so sexually frustrated. Maybe he unleashed a beast. Who knows. It doesn't really matter nowadays. "Well, I for one am glad, because I think we could both use the time to do other things." Mostly, he's thinking of food. Of cleaning up a little. Things like that."  
  
Without the two of them devouring each other like starving men at a feast, the rest of the house's noise becomes clearer in the silence. As Claude finishes his sentence, he can hear the soft creak of feet on the stairs, and then down the hall right in front of their door, although with less creaking now. There's only two people it could otherwise be in this part of the house, and which of the two it is becomes clear at the knock to the door. One knock, a careful beat, and then followed by another - like its owner is worried about being too obtrusive. Claude knows it's Ignatz even before he speaks up.  
  
"Claude? Your- ah, Dimitri? Are the two of you in here?"   
  
"We're here," Claude says, while Dimitri rakes his hair from his face. "Come on in, Ignatz."  
  
Being invited is an all clear, and Ignatz doesn't seem particularly surprised at the scene he enters in on. All he does is carefully shut the door behind him, so that no one else can stumble upon the scene, even if there are few who would end up this far into his home. He seems a little embarrassed, honestly, but not as much as he might have been once upon a time. Now, it's less about two men being completely naked in the room, and more that it's two _kings_ who are completely naked, in his guest room, in his house.  
  
Yet despite the fact that he's still working through those feelings, the kind that have been raised by Fodlish culture his entire life, Ignatz has made some really impressive strides. There's only a slight split second of hesitation before he relaxes and walks over to them. "It's good to see that the two of you have already reunited again," he says, smiling and undeniably drinking in the sight that Claude and Dimitri make.  
  
It's a part of their whole relationship, an interesting little thing that Claude can't recall ever having read about in any of his books here in Fodlan, and a little less rarely over in Almyra. Ignatz, as far as Claude can understand him, doesn't.... particularly _do_ romance. He cares for people, of course, and he loves many people dearly... just not the romantic love. That has made it no less intense, no less deep. One only needs to see the situation in his home to understand it: the way him, and Raphael, and Maya all live comfortably together as a family.  
  
Ignatz's relationship with them is a little different, in that it's the kind where Ignatz can lean down, and Claude pushes up enough to meet him in the middle for a friendly kiss. Despite what more than a few people may have said throughout the years on the topic, love and sex aren't things that automatically go alongside one another. Sometimes it might be better when they do, but it's not a done-and-done sort of thing. Ignatz thinks sex, and kissing, and hugging, are all pleasurable things... and he just can't quite understand why it has to be paired with a romantic kind of love.  
  
Somehow, Raphael and Maya seem to get it, and are happy to live this kind of family life exactly how it is. If people ask questions about it, Claude hasn't heard much about it. Speaking of himself, Claude honestly agrees with the sentiment of sex being something that can simply exist on its own, after a lot of philosophical thinking on the matter. A lot of philosophical thinking, and some casual talks with Ignatz, during late nights in the library where they both had very different goals. Claude had not been Ignatz's first kiss, but he _had_ been the one most interested in any experimention Ignatz had been curious enough to do.  
  
It's Dimitri, out of all of them, who had been most hesitant about all of it, especially when Claude had first talked to him about his prior and very sexual relationship with Ignatz. That's not surprising, with the general very religious culture of the lands which were previously Faerghus. Of course that had pressured love and sex to be tightly intertwined. Yet Dimitri has always had a rather _fraught_ relationship with the church's idea of religion to begin with, along with wanting to be more open minded.  
  
That's why, now, after a good few years of this relationship, he too can push himself up, and place an apologetic kiss to Ignatz's neck. "I meant to greet you far earlier," he says, looking ashamed. Even if they all understand that Ignatz isn't interested in a _romance_ , Dimitri still seems to view it as a disgrace if he doesn't do things like greet him properly. Apparently it has to do with manners, and showing an appreciation for Ignatz's generosity. Well, that's fine. Certainly Ignatz doesn't seem to mind. "In fact, I was hoping to find your stall in the marketplace, but I was... sidetracked."  
  
"I see," Ignatz says with an understanding smile, both as a simple agreement to what Dimitri has said and also because he can literally see Claude naked and lounging on the bed besides his lover. "Well, I'm glad that the two of you were able to arrive here safely... I suppose it shouldn't be surprising, but we all worried nonetheless. Will you be staying for dinner?"  
  
Ever since they first started to cook alongside the Professor back in Garreg Mach, and then when they all moved into together after the war, Ignatz and Raphael both seem to have become better at cooking. Really, Ignatz was never a problem; it was always a matter of matching his interest in aesthetic with how the final product would taste. Raphael, in contrast, has always viewed just about anything as edible if you simply tried hard enough. It was when he had to cook something for Maya, of course, that he changed all of that around... and, honestly, Claude is delighted.  
  
Food was always just... food to him, for a really long time. How could it have been anything else? Dinners back in Almyra when he had been a child had always been tense affairs at worse, and rowdy at the best of times as his many siblings had gotten into arguments or challenges against one another. He'd enjoyed good food, of course, and he could remember a couple of fond times he'd eaten in quieter settings with his mother or father... but those were rare. He suspects they thought him dealing with the rest of his family would be good for him, or that it would accomplish some ridiculous goal.  
  
Eating dinner with Dimitri, or on the rare occasions they managed to do so together with Ignatz and the Kirstner family, feels so _different_. It feels... like the food is a part of a beautiful experience, instead of the only reason to deal with a situation.  
  
It feels like home.  
  
So of course he says, "I'd love to, Ignatz." Pausing, he glances over to Dimitri. "What about you?"  
  
"It'd be rude to decline an invitation," Dimitri says, although he glances back up at the window where fainter light is streaming through. "Hopefully my absence won't be too noticeable..." Dimitri has never really wanted to be the leader of a nation like this, especially one in such a state... but he cares about people too much to refuse this chance he's been given. That exact same care is why he wouldn't want to send anyone under him into a panic.  
  
It's part of why Ignatz has such a soft heart for him too, even if it's not romance, and he lightly squeezes his hand. "We can make sure it's quick," he promises, appreciating Dimitri as he is. It's one of those little things that always seems to put Dimitri at ease, and he smiles back. "Do you two need a change of clothes?"  
  
Dimitri, clearly, has a pack of his own covered, because he's learned to be overly cautious in that aspect ever since the two of them got into a relationship, not even talking about how Ignatz figures into things. But Claude glances over to where his clothes have ended up in a tangled sweaty heap on the floor and hums. "I might need to borrow something, yeah."  
  
The problem there is that Ignatz is far shorter than him, and Raphael could house two Claudes in him if he were hollow inside instead of filled to the brim with muscle, food, overwhelming love, and maybe some more muscle. Dimitri is hardly any better, even if he's not _completely_ built like a whole barn. In the end, Claude goes for some of Raph's enormous shirters, reusing his pants so that he doesn't trip on his own face.  
  
If him and Dimitri hadn't been slightly more concerned with more _carnal_ matters, Claude is fairly certain that the two of them would have noticed the warm smell of stew the second they came in through the back door. Certainly it hits his nose when they step out of the guest room, so it must have been overwhelming down on the ground floor closer to the kitchen. Amazing, really, what horniness can block out. Claude is about to mention just that to Dimitri, but he pauses glancing up at him from the corner of his eye. Dimitri has his own closed, a soft smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath through his nose.  
  
He'll... just let him enjoy the smell of good food, and the comfortable air as the three of them make their way down the stairs.  
  
Ignatz, Raphael, and Maya may not be nobility, but their dining area is still large - something that can be afforded to them as Fodlan changes and with Lorenz more than happy to look after his friends where it may be needed. That's not even talking about how well Ignatz's own art sells. All of that is a good thing, considering how many of their friends come to visit them all the time. It's not even Dimitri or himself, or Lorenz.  
  
Petra and Dorothea often feel at home here, Claude knows, chatting with Ignatz and wowing Maya with tales from the old Adestrian lands or in places even further beyond that. Leonie is always looking in, and Lysithea drops by with sweets that Raphael and Maya both adore. Ingrid with her pegasus has a bit of freedom, when she isn't pioneering the way for female knights, and often takes time to bring Ignatz various paint material when he's otherwise stuck in place. And a little bird once told Claude that Sylvain sometimes steals away from his parents, slips off with Raphael for time of their own....  
  
All of that warrants a big table and comfortable chairs. With five of them dining together, that's more than room enough. So much more room enough that they honestly squander some of it, preferring to shift close together until their elbows and shoulders are brushing. Raphael and Maya are delighted to see them, Maya excitedly jabbering on about all the different things that are on display at the marketplace, and how her and her brother have been picking up odd jobs to help fund their lives.  
  
It makes him glad to see, honestly, and Claude smiles throughout the whole dinner. He knows he's biased when it comes to his friends, and that's a bond that goes both ways. No doubt Raphael, Maya, and Ignatz are all so willing to give this a chance because they know him. Other people, on both sides of the border, are going to be a little more wary and hesitant. But if they can just find one thing to find interesting or fantastic...  
  
That will be as much as Claude could ever hope for. That's one foot in the door.  
  
Dimitri can't stay as long as they'd all like - including Dimitri himself. He eats a little quicker than normal, even as he graciously compliments the family's cooking skills for all that he can't taste a lick of it, and then he's rushing back up to the guest room he'd taken in order to change into proper kingly attire and get all his things as well. By the time he rushes down again, Raphael has gathered quite the number of sandwiches to shove into his hands. Claude is pretty it's some sort of muscular blond solidarity that has the two of them hug each other so tightly, and then, with one last kiss to Maya's cheek, followed by Ignatz and Claude's lips, he's off.  
  
In contrast, Claude feels perfectly at ease not running off _anywhere_ for a nice long while. He just sinks into a comfortable chair near the little fireplace, a sigh of contentment leaking out of him. Fodlan food really does sink right into the pit of one's stomach... Claude thinks he could stay lodged permanently in place because of it. Happily, Raphael goes to hold some things for his sister while she starts knitting - no doubt something for her precious older brother more than anything to do with the festival that's undoubtedly still flourishing underneath the night sky.  
  
It's Ignatz who settles down near to Claude, a sketchbook in his hands. Everyone nowadays knows Ignatz for the scenes of glory and religious reverence that he's sold to many a person in a noble station. If Claude's sources have been correct, he's pretty sure Dimitri was even lowkey pressured into getting something done. You know, a bit of artistic history to remember the "Savior King" of Fodlan who lead the salvation and unification of Fodlan as a whole. (Dimitri hates that title, and everything to do with it.) When it's not pictures trying to help soothe the war into a distant past, it's pictures of the Goddess, or the many saints. Sometimes, the two even end up mingling, depending on who is commissioning him or if Ignatz wants to say something in particular.  
  
The one that has generated the most talk so far, if Claude has heard correctly (he has), would no doubt be the picture he did of Dedue, associating him with apparently a few specific gods of Duscur origin, yet done in the style to venerate any saint. Apparently, Dedue is just as embarrassed as Dimitri is of his picture.  
  
Saying that Ignatz doesn't enjoy drawing and painting those kinds of pictures would be a lie. Even if Claude teased him a few times about the Church of Seiros, there is no denying the beauty of the architecture and images that have been produced thinking about the Goddess and the Saints. However, the beauty which produced Sothis also produced the rest of the world, and Ignatz looks upon it with that same adoring eye.  
  
One only needs to look into his sketchbook to see that simple and beautiful truth. In those pages lay dozens of pictures depicting a common life: Maya's nimble fingers as she grabs a fruit from the orchard, hefted up by the steady curve of her brother's muscles. The sprawl of a marketplace at dusk, people hard at work even as the sun is struggling to slip away the covers of dawn. The pure kinetic _energy_ that used to be the war councils as they all worked hard to keep their borders safe while others wished to be absorbed completely.  
  
As Claude watches him, he gets to see another little bit of domesticity be brought to life, although the kind that many people try not to think about. Well, in Fodlan, mostly the kind the church tries to tell them they shouldn't think about, and which is, admittedly sort of rude to just bring up to any random stranger on the street, which is a direct contrast to the usual mundane small talk like the weather. But there is no denying the part their sexuality plays in their lives, in their home.  
  
Ignatz's pencil strokes capture that perfectly. The shadows filtering in from the unseen (in the picture) window far above should be sharp harsh things, welcoming in the night, but Ignatz's skill doesn't show that. Instead, the shadows only serve to accentuate the way their bodies drape lazily along the bed, exhausted from the coupling hinted at in various ways: the rope curled openly on the floor where it was tossed, crumpled sheets that were shoved off, their nude bodies at odds with one another as Dimitri lays with his feet near Claude's head.  
  
It's kind of silly, the way they're sprawled on the bed like that, feet to head... Claude hadn't really thought too hard about it until now, as he watches Ignatz bring their two bodies to life with quick hasty sketches that don't worry too much about imperfection. That's why their poses are only _kind of_ silly. Ignatz... can get to the absolute heart of the feeling he wants to bring to life in his sketches, his artwork. He gets to the heart of _people_.  
  
He gets to the heart of Dimitri and Claude, their bodies close together as though they could never think of parting. Their hands lingering side by side. Their nudeness almost holy in the soft light Ignatz brings to light, as though the world were created to allow them to exist just like this, for exactly this moment.  
  
Claude is more than happy to lounge while watching all the little details be brought to life, just like his charcoal double on paper seems to smile so comfortably from where he lays. "You know, for a guy with no interest in romance," Claude muses, "you sure have a talent for depicting it."  
  
Pausing so that he doesn't disrupt his work, Ignatz lets loose a soft laugh. "It's not that surprising," he says, a flick of his wrist giving Dimitri that steady jawline Claude is so infatuated with. "Even if I have no interest in it myself... That doesn't mean I can't recognize how beautiful it is when I see it in front of me."  
  
"Like an archer able to appreciate a swordsman's technique," Claude muses, thinking of Felix's steadfast routine back in Garreg Mach. While his personality had occasionally left things to be desired, no one that he can recall could ever look at the way he used a sword and think he was anything but beautiful. It's little wonder that Ashe and Annette are as fond of him as they are, too, when one considers the swordsman's hidden depths. "Well, I'm glad an artist like you has such a good memory.... I guess that's not something you plan on showing to the public anytime soon?"  
  
A blush crosses Ignatz face. For all his more liberal ideas on sexuality, Ignatz still seems so incredibly shy when it comes to revealing the more private aspects of his life to the public... and there's no denying two friends of his, absolutely naked in post-coital comfort, is something private to his life, especially considering their own relationships. "I... wasn't planning on it, no."  
  
"Pity. I was hoping I could convince you to one day paint something like that for real," Claude laughs. "Dimitri needs more pictures displaying that stunning body of his."  
  
"Scars and all?"  
  
Claude thinks of the myriad of wounds Dimitri has on his body, old things that have had years to heal but won't fade for as long as he lives. Scars from five years of fear, and anger, and exhaustion, and misery. They're old, now. Dark and jagged where they lay, but getting paler as time passes on. As life continues forward, letting them reach sweeter moments. "Yeah," Claude says. "Scars and all."  
  
"I'll think about it," Ignatz says, with a fond smile that says he knows exactly what Claude is thinking. "Although I believe it would be better if you asked Dimitri what he thinks about it first. It _is_ his own body, after all."  
  
"Oooh, it'll be a tough sell. But..." Claude yawns a little bit, and lets his eyes drift shut. "I think if anyone can manage it, then I can."  
  
And with that, Claude falls silent. In a place like this, silence isn't a tool he uses to suss out strange noises that hint at deeper things, or to remain uninterrupted as he makes more plans for the kind of future that he wants to see come to fruition. Here, in Ignatz and the Kirstner house, he can just... enjoy it for what it is. Fire's soft crackling. Clicking from Maya's needles. Raphael humming some tune he heard from the market. And, of course, Ignatz's pencil sliding across paper.  
  
One day, he'll be able to come here more often. Claude looks forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> For ages, I've wanted to write something with Ignatz, both in my coffeeshop AU V3 and also just figure out some canon stuff, but nothing could ever QUITE flick into my brain. I was blocked. 
> 
> And then partway writing this, my brain was like "Ignatz is aromantic and also he's kissing two kings"
> 
> Anyway, Ignatz is aromantic and he's kissing two kings!!! One day I will write further on that, because I feel like I really found my stride with what I'd like to do with Ignatz! 
> 
> .....you know
> 
> in this fic meant for a weekend full of dimiclaude smut
> 
> I forgot the various canon endings and how everything goes, of what I've read at all, but, I mean, I know for a fact that canon doesn't let dimitri and claude smooch anyway, so, like, whatever, 
> 
> Can you believe that no tag for intercural automatically popped up? That's wild to me. 
> 
> yes dimitri is read an equivalent of the Kama Sutra


End file.
